


hold me like you mean it

by tamquamm



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Actually Communicating About Sex, Anal Sex, M/M, Porn with minimal Plot, Rough Sex, tbh pretty domsetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquamm/pseuds/tamquamm
Summary: Adam takes one bite out of his Dream Toaster™-toasted toast, swallows fully and then carefully sets it back down, each move calculated.“So,” he says like it’s just the weather, innocuous enough, “you can be rough with me when you fuck me,” then promptly chases his words with a long gulp of orange juice.Ronan nearly chokes on his bacon.(Or: Adam insists that he is not as breakable as Ronan thinks)
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 8
Kudos: 316
Collections: TRC/ CDTH Prompt Week 2020





	hold me like you mean it

**Author's Note:**

> for day four of prompt week - smut! ;)

Ronan’s hands are nice. 

They’re big and roughed and callused and strong. They’re all Adam can think about right now, because they’re currently pressed to Adam’s skin, warm and teasing and fucking perfect. Every touch is electric, send tingly sparks through Adam’s core. Ronan’s hands slide up his sides, slide across his chest just right, slide over his collarbone perfectly, and—

And then they stop.

It takes everything in Adam not to groan out his frustration right then and there.

Instead, he presses back into Ronan’s hands where he’s paused over his sternum, in a way Adam hopes seems encouraging. He can feel Ronan’s fingertips, featherlight and just shy of his throat. So fucking close but so fucking _not_ there.

“You could keep going,” Adam says carefully, trying for light. “If you wanted to, you know…” Adam trails off, swallowing hard for emphasis. 

Ronan stills completely then, blinks at him. “Wanted to what?”

Adam breathes out through his nose, grimaces when he realizes how audible it is. “Touch my throat? Get a little rough?” He tries. “It’s okay, I can take it.”

The face Ronan makes is even more complicated than the last, and Adam recognizes it, realizes he’s made a misstep. Pensive, he almost misses the flash second when Ronan glances away, a break in his resolve. His ears start to pink up in a dead giveaway. _Ah._

“Why would I want to do that?” Ronan says all at once, not meeting Adam’s eyes. He’s idly tugging at his wristbands with one hand, fidgeting his fingers with the other. 

The mood’s completely evaporated by now, so Adam doesn’t feel bad about slipping his legs out from under Ronan and sitting up proper. He grabs Ronan’s wrists and takes his hands in his, squeezes gently.

“That, for starters. The fact you won’t look me in the eye, for seconds.”

Ronan turns to glare at him then, the furrow in his brow all bravado. Adam can read him like a book, already looking past it to decode the guarded flash in Ronan’s eyes. 

“I’m looking you in the eye right now,” Ronan grumbles, but it’s a weak shot and they both know it.

Adam rubs a thumb gently over Ronan’s pulsepoint. “Third, I can _feel_ you holding back. You’re pulling back. I know you are.”

Ronan doesn’t answer, and that’s answer enough. 

But Adam can see the conflict course through him, the reluctance to push back, both physically before and verbally now. Adam swallows, feels bad about getting them into this position like this. After all, they _were_ in the middle of something that he would prefer to get back to, really. So he sighs, and decides to put Ronan out of his misery. 

“We can talk about it later.” He cups Ronan’s jaw in his palm, leans in and kisses him, long and deep and not chaste at all, but somehow so _sweet._ “Now where were we?”

It’s more than easy to jump right back in, to get lost in Ronan’s gentle touches, the sweet press of Ronan’s lips on his skin, the familiar all-encompassing warmth when Ronan holds him close and makes love to him.

~

Adam wasn’t lying — call it Ronan’s influence — when he said they’d talk about it later.

It might’ve been an ambush if Adam hadn’t warned him the night before, because mornings are always good, easy. Mornings are warm in the orangey early sunlight, refreshing and well-rested on days like these, light and comfortable and familiar in the presence of each other. Mornings are _safe._

Not that they aren’t safe anymore, not that _this_ isn’t safe, but Adam has a hunch that Ronan was betting on him forgetting.

He lets him have it for a little bit and doesn’t bring it up just yet. Besides, there is breakfast to be made.

“You know what’d be nice?” Adam says over his shoulder while he slots slices of bread into the Dream Toaster™. He doesn’t wait for Ronan to reply and continues, “if you dreamt up a fully cooked breakfast spread and brought that back when you woke up.”

He can practically hear Ronan roll his eyes all the way from his spot at the stove. “And waste _all_ of the groceries we drove _all_ the way into town for?”

Adam makes a thoughtful noise while he pushes down the lever on the toaster. “You’re right, you could dream up our groceries, too.”

“I thought you _like_ cooking,” Ronan accuses, rather than getting into their age old debate of questioning the safety and nutritional value of dreamt food. It’s a classic, but a classic for another day.

“I do enjoy cooking,” Adam agrees. “But we can always think bigger.” He chooses that moment to glare at the Dream Toaster™ accusingly. If Ronan notices, he doesn’t disagree. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan hums, “you’re still getting your bacon and eggs, either way.”

Adam turns and leans against the counter while he waits for the toast to pop. He’s got a good view of Ronan from here. Ronan, in nothing but wrinkled boxers, hunched over the stove and poking at the contents of the pan. The low morning sunlight bleeds in from the big windows over the sink, clinging to the juts and edges of Ronan’s face, his body. Gilded in the same warm glow, his tattoo stretches taut over the expanse of muscles on his back. Adam traces the edges of it with his eyes. 

“You should’ve put a shirt on,” Adam says in place of the naughtier thoughts running wild through his head. “If anything spatters you’re going to get burned.”

Ronan doesn’t look up from his task, deep in concentration. Instead, he gifts Adam with a flash of the middle finger. “I know you’re not complaining about the view right now,” Ronan sees right through him.

Adam just laughs outright, full and bright. The toaster pops and Adam gets back to work. “You almost done over there?”

“Mhm,” Ronan confirms, already sliding the contents of the pan onto a plate already decorated bacon. Adam meets his nod and they rendezvous at the kitchen table, boasting their respective offerings. It’s quiet save for the shuffle of plates and food being served, Adam wordlessly fills Ronan’s glass with apple juice and his with orange, Ronan wordlessly slides the two eggs-over-medium onto Adam’s plate and scrapes the scrambled onto his.

Adam takes one bite out of his Dream Toaster™-toasted toast, swallows fully and then carefully sets it back down, each move calculated. “So,” he says like it’s just the weather, innocuous enough, “you can be rough with me when you fuck me,” then promptly chases his words with a long gulp of orange juice. 

Ronan nearly chokes on his bacon.

He clears his throat and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Do you—” he stops, “I mean I can—” he stops again, “If that’s what—”

“It’s okay,” Adam cuts off his sputtering attempts. He’s half tempted to tease Ronan about the way he’s flushed pink down to his chest, but he can feel the heat in his own face, too, and that wouldn’t be fair. “I’m not fragile, and sometimes I want you to… to manhandle me? I want to feel it, I want to feel _yours_ ,” he settles on, even though he knows it doesn’t fully explain everything he wants.

“Are you,” Ronan says, each word chosen carefully, “are you sure you want that?” It hangs in the air, like Ronan means to say more, but he doesn’t continue.

Adam runs a hand through his hair and looks away, stares at his eggs. A little quieter, a little more hesitant, “I mean, if _you_ don’t want that, then that’s completely okay. I’ll drop it, I don’t want to pressure you into anything—”

“No, it’s not that,” Ronan blurts out. If Adam didn’t know him better, it’d come off _bashful,_ and that nearly throws him off balance. Ronan starts rambling, though, and it pulls him back. “You aren’t wrong, I _do_ want to. Sometimes.” He busies his hands by tearing the crust off his toast, collecting the pieces in a neat pile at the corner of his plate. 

“Okay?” Adam prods gently, hoping he’ll expand.

“You’re just, really hot,” and it shouldn’t sound so much a confession as it does, not when they’ve been together this long, but it does. Ronan’s eyes flicker to Adam’s chest, where he’s just as shirtless as he is. He continues, “and it drives me crazy, sometimes I just kind of get lost in it? So. You didn’t read it wrong. I do want to, sometimes.”

“Then you should,” Adam says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He thinks about all the times he’s seen that look in Ronan’s eyes, and every time he’s subsequently encouraged him to go further. “Why don’t you?”

Ronan doesn’t even try to hide his tells and answers with a long gulp of his apple juice. He doesn’t say anything right away, and Adam waits patiently, doesn’t press. Ronan focuses on fidgeting with his wristbands, eyes glued to his wrist. Finally, without looking up, he murmurs, “I don’t want anyone to hurt you,” he exhales, “ _I_ don’t want to hurt you.”

The implications are loud in the silence.

Adam reaches across the table and holds out his hand, palm up, until Ronan lifts his own to grasp it. Adam holds on tight, and waits for Ronan to look at him, eye to eye. “This is different,” Adam says, soft, carefully tearing down Ronan’s unspoken words, his unspoken fears. “You won’t hurt me, because I _know_ you never would. I trust you. And I want you to. That’s why it’s different.”

“But what if I don’t trust myself?” Ronan says in a rush. He clings to his hand, not necessarily tighter, but weightier. Then, quieter, “I’m scared.”

Adam runs his thumb over Ronan’s, soothing. “I’m not,” Adam hums. Then, voice going low, “I’m not that breakable.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, makes sure Ronan’s still looking when he licks his lips, suggestive. He emphasizes it with a squeeze of Ronan’s hand. He lets go right after, goes right back to picking up his toast, as if nothing had interrupted him at all. 

His eyes flicker to Ronan’s plate, then back up to Ronan himself. “You better eat that before it goes cold.” Chased with orange juice.

Ronan blinks, then he laughs and does as he’s told.

~

It’s hours later, long after dusk, when Adam comes back to the house and sets out to find Ronan. Not that he’s _hard_ to find, not when the rest of the house is dark and the light of the computer bleeds a conspicuous square of dim light into the hallway like a beacon. Adam settles in the doorway for a moment, leans on the frame and just watches him for a bit.

“Creep,” Ronan says with no heat, just a hint of a smile and a sparing glance, but his focus trails back to whatever’s on the screen.

Adam scoffs, pushes off from the wall and goes to join Ronan. He stands behind him, loosely wraps his arms around him and rests his chin on Ronan’s shoulder, peruses the screen with disinterest. It’s important stuff, but not important enough that it can’t wait. Decisively, Adam buries his face in Ronan’s neck, pleased when Ronan doesn’t resist him, even cranes his neck to make room for him. 

“Come on, hit save and come to bed with me,” Adam murmurs, muffled into Ronan’s neck. “Please, baby,” Adam hums, just for good measure. 

Ronan is only human. The save button is only one click.

So that’s how they end up on Ronan’s bed, a tangle of desperate kisses and wandering hands. Clothes disappear quickly enough, dropped in a haphazard flurry, wrinkling on the carpet and laying way to sunkissed spans of muscle and skin, waiting to be touched and worshipped and ravished.

Adam manages to swing a leg over Ronan’s lap, effectively straddling him and getting a little bit of height. He uses it to his full advantage, easily gathers Ronan’s chin in his hands and tips his head back at the right angle, perfect for kissing him full and deep and _wanting._

“Baby,” Ronan groans, breathless, when Adam finally comes up for air. His lips are wet and gleaming, swollen red with his handiwork. Adam enjoys the picture of him for a second, until he takes a deep breath, rests his head forehead-to-forehead on Ronan’s. 

He flutters his eyes shut, swallows for courage. “We don’t have to yet,” he whispers, “we can keep going like this. I can fuck you.” The offer is there, delicate, but Adam isn’t fooling anyone when it comes to conviction.

Ronan moves from under him, gets a hand on the back of his neck and uses it to pull him in, tucking him against his neck. “That’s okay,” Ronan murmurs into his good ear, “I want to try it. What we talked about.”

Adam can _feel_ Ronan’s flush this time, warm against his cheek. Ronan chooses that moment to distract, rolls his hips up against Adam, his arousal clear. Adam’s breath hitches, and he rolls down to meet him just as enthusiastically.

“Fuck, yes yes yes,” Adam agrees, melting into Ronan’s hold. But he stills, just for a second, hit with a moment of clarity. “If you want to stop at any point—”

Ronan laughs, cutting him off. “If _I_ want to stop? Sure, I’ll make sure you know.” His expression rolls into serious, then. “But if _you_ want me to stop, you have to tell me, okay? You say stop and I’ll drop everything.”

Adam smiles against his neck, then moves up to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I will, I promise.” He licks at the seam of Ronan’s lips, “so don’t hold back ‘til I say so.”

He kisses him before he can reply, conversation time effectively over.

Ronan doesn’t do anything particularly different, not at first. He keeps Adam in his lap, one hand rests at his hip, the other cups his jaw to keep kissing him how he likes. Even the roll of his hips is the same, languid and easy.

Adam figures he just needs a little motivation.

It’s a little roundabout a method, but Adam is nothing if not innovative. When Ronan goes in for another kiss, Adam catches his bottom lip between his teeth, bites gently and pulls just enough to send the message. As Ronan freezes, Adam shoves lightly at his chest, just to pull him back in immediately, back to nipping at his lip. 

Ronan groans, starts moving again, frantically this time. Adam can pinpoint the moment he’s made his breakthrough.

“Yes,” Adam encourages him when he feels the grip at his hip tighten, when he feels Ronan’s teeth graze his neck. “There we go, baby.”

Ronan sucks at the skin just to the side of his pulsepoint, warm at the base of his neck. Adam leans into it, shuts his eyes and focuses on the trail of wet almost-hickeys that Ronan trails up the line of his neck and along the line of his jaw. He tilts his head as much as he can, offering up as much room as possible for Ronan to do as he pleases. 

Adam nudges him with his elbow. Panting, “come on, show me what you’ve got.”

Ronan takes the bait, glares at Adam with fire, hungry, in his eyes. Suddenly, Adam feels himself falling, but the press of Ronan’s hands, hard into his skin, keeps him from anything more than a little yelp. He lands on his back, spread over the mattress with Ronan grinning, amused, above him

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Adam half moans. He makes a calculated decision, lightning fast, and slowly stretches his arms over his head. He doesn’t once break eye contact with Ronan, carefully watches him watch him. He lets his hands settle over his head, gracefully crosses his wrists when he knows Ronan’s watching. He licks his lips, blinks up at Ronan as sweetly as he can possibly muster. Something in his eyes flickers. _Killshot._

Ronan is either entirely predictable, or Adam just knows him too well for his own good. Either is fine, because either results in just the same: Ronan grabbing Adam’s wrists in one hand, pinning him down while he goes back in at kissing the breath out of him.

It’s desperate now, all the notes of sweet touches and tentative cute shit thrown out the window, replaced with heat and desire and want. Ronan kisses him with a goal, with a purpose, like if he doesn’t kiss him thoroughly enough he might slip away.

Adam would never, but he won’t vocalize it when these are the results he gets. 

Ronan’s got a knee shoved between Adam’s legs, beautiful hard pressure that Adam doesn’t hesitate to grind up on. He can feel the heat of Ronan’s cock, so close but just out of reach. It’s the perfect kind of frustrating, and it drives Adam crazy. Ronan is everywhere around him, and all Adam can do is writher against the sheets, groaning pleased sounds against Ronan’s lips.

“Yeah?” Ronan whispers, breathy, his free hand trailing patterns across Adam’s abdomen, teasingly slow in its downward trajectory. Adam rolls his hips up in a futile attempt to hurry it along, but Ronan hushes him, pushes him back down with his weight.

“Stay there for me,” Ronan says once his hand has reached dangerously close territory. He squeezes Adam’s wrists once in clarification, just before he lets go.

Adam, hazy with pleasure, is slow to realize just why he’s let go, but he hears the familiar click of a cap and suddenly, he knows. He throws his head back into the spring of the mattress, overwhelmed with a wave of anticipation, electric down his spine. “ _Please,_ ” is the only coherent word he manages. 

Ronan pushes his knees further apart with one hand on his thigh. He places a little kiss, chaste, on the soft skin of his inner thigh. His other hand — _god his hand_ — trails between Adam’s cheeks, slippery with a fresh coating of lube. It’s not cold, but not as warm as Ronan usually preps it. The bite of cool that hits him sends jolts through his body, only driven home when Ronan circles his hole, dragging it out.

Adam starts to babble, “I swear, if you don’t fucking— _fuck._ ”

Ronan laughs lightly, endeared, when he presses inside, effectively shutting him up. He’s thorough as always with his prep, maybe even more so. Adam doesn’t object, knows that this is the important part, this is the part where maybe Ronan is more reasonable than the requests bubbling up at the back of Adam’s head, begging him to forgo this and get right to the part that Adam really wants. 

“Shhh,” Ronan hums, soothing, as if he can hear Adam’s thoughts. “Almost ready,” he assures him, voice soft but hands firm. Adam does his best to focus on his voice, focus on the feeling. He tries to relax, tries to be as helpful as possible. Tries to be _good._

But Ronan slips a fourth finger in, and Adam has had enough of waiting. “Baby, baby,” he exhales, “fuck me already, come _on._ ”

Ronan rolls his eyes at him and scissors his fingers for emphasis. “Be patient,” he says, voice firm.

Normally, Adam would continue to egg him on, but Ronan’s tone, the weight of it, stirs something in his middle. Adam breathes in through his nose, steadying himself from the new wave of dizzy pleasure gone straight to his head. 

“Okay,” Adam acquiesces, voice shaky with need. “If you keep talking like that… anything you want.”

Ronan groans this time, braces his forehead on Adam’s knee. “Stay still,” he says just as firmly. Adam watches his face do things when he does obey, staying perfectly still while Ronan finishes stretching him out. 

It takes everything in him to keep still when Ronan finally pulls his fingers out. The anticipation is killing him. Ronan wipes uses his clean hand to spill more lube onto his hand. He looks at Adam when he wraps his hand around his cock, pumping himself until he’s fully coated, exceptionally hard, and helplessly dripping.

Adam can’t help it anymore, he wraps an ankle behind Ronan’s thigh and drags him in closer.

“Ready?” Ronan asks anyway. His voice has gone quiet, gentle again. He doesn't even try to hide how he looks Adam over, pointedly searches his face. 

“Ready,” Adam says just as gently back, a breath of a smile at the corner of his lips. 

Ronan nods with a swallow. “Just let me know,” is the last he says of it, already jumping back into the pull of his desire. Adam nods back, just so Ronan knows, just so Ronan is reminded that he does want this. That they _both_ want this.

So with that, Ronan doesn’t give much of a warning other than the brief press of the tip, teasing pressure against his hole. Adam sucks in a breath, feels himself flutter against him.

“ _Adam,_ ” Ronan groans when he pushes in and in and in. Adam feels every inch where he’s tight around him, feels how Ronan fills him just right, revels in the hot, wet pressure. Ronan goes steady, doesn’t stop until he’s all the way in, hips pressed hot against Adam’s thighs. 

Panting, he grabs one of Adam’s legs and hikes it over his shoulder in one move. Adam uses the new angle to tilt his hips up and grind down on Ronan’s cock where it’s still buried deep inside of him. 

He _keens_ when it works, when he feels Ronan’s cockhead rub just right over his prostate, hard and hot and absolutely everything.

It’s a chain reaction, snapping Ronan back into it. He uses both of his hands to grab Adam by the hips, pulls him impossibly closer. His fingers dig into the bony juts there, most definitely bruising. Adam can feel the split second where Ronan worries, but one glance at Adam’s face, screwed in ecstasy, must dispel all of his lingering inhibitions. 

He pulls out, then, not fast but not slow, either. Adam savors the drag inside of him, is still savoring it that he’s pleasantly caught off guard when Ronan shoves back in, already starting to pick up the pace.

Adam’s head clears of everything except the feeling of Ronan inside him, the feeling of Ronan all over him. His hands, his weight, his _presence_ pinning him in place. He clings to Ronan’s cock, helplessly and selfishly and not caring at all. He feels so completely surrounded by Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, and it’s all he can think about, all he fucking cares about.

“ _More,_ ” is all he says to vocalize this.

It seems to be enough, though, because Ronan spread a palm out over Adam’s chest, effectively holding him down. He shifts his knee for a better hold, and then he lets loose.

Adam asked for more, so Ronan gives him more. Ronan will always give him what he wants. 

“Fucking perfect, baby, fuck,” Ronan says in way of reply. He backs it up with actions, starts to piston his hips as quickly as he can, head thrown back while he starts to lose himself in it. Adam recognizes it as he lets his own hand trail down, tugging at himself with the slick of his own precome. No thoughts, no thinking, just the delicious physical feelings mixes with the headrush of pleasure, operating almost entirely on instinct.

Adam arches his back to better meet his thrusts, but it’s difficult with his mind overwhelmed and his breath punched out of him in little _“ah”_ s every time Ronan slams back in. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Baby, baby,” Ronan starts to ramble, voice ragged and out of breath. He doesn’t relent, though, and Adam is admittedly impressed. “I’m close, I’m gonna, I’m—”

“Inside,” Adam says quickly, surprising them both. “Wanna feel you,” he groans, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Adam knows what he must look like to Ronan. A perfect picture — Adam so entirely consumed in pleasure, laid out on Ronan’s bed like a beautiful mess, a mess that _Ronan_ made — proves to be more than enough to throw Ronan over the edge. He drives in one more time, all the way he can go, and grinds frantically into Adam as he rides out his orgasm.

Adam holds his breath without realizing. Ronan spills hot inside of him and all he can do is screw his eyes shut, mind going blank save for the feeling of Ronan inside him in every way. He comes like that, with Ronan still inside him, clenching unbelievably tight around him. 

It’s a few moments before either of them are fully back online, Ronan half on top of him and his soft cock still tucked halfway inside him. Adam reluctantly lets him slip out, and pointedly ignores the ensuing mess of it. Instead, he manages to roll onto his side toward Ronan, where he can tuck his head on his shoulder where it belongs.

They stay like that, just breathing together, untangling and retangling their limbs until Ronan stirs. 

Adam makes a noise of complaint, but Ronan hushes him with a kiss to his forehead. Adam watches him roll nearly entirely off the bed arm outstretched to the floor. He snatches a shirt from where it had been crumpled on the ground, and promptly rolls back.

It makes sense when Ronan uses it to wipe them down before the trails of come dry on their skin.

“That better not be _my_ shirt,” Adam murmurs into the pillow as he watches him.

“Tough luck sweetie,” Ronan says, entirely too sweet. He turns to work on Adam, then.

Adam lets him, pliantly moves his limbs when Ronan lifts them. He only hisses a little bit when Ronan swipes over his hole.

A _little bit,_ but enough for Ronan to go rigid, probably a million things going through his head.

“Are you okay, did I—” Ronan starts at the same time that Adam sighs, “Please don’t freak out, I’m okay—”

They stop at the same time.

Adam leans in then and kisses him, gentle and sweet, entirely unlike the ones from before. “That was perfect, I mean it,” Adam whispers against his lips, close enough that he’s sure Ronan can feel the words as much as he hears them. He pulls back then, holds out his arms, inviting Ronan to take him all in. “See? All in one piece.” He grins, and lets himself relax when Ronan finally grins back, the tension visibly leaving him, too.

The shirt gets thrown back to the floor, and Ronan is easily wrestled back down for Adam to thoroughly wrap all of his limbs around him, pulling him close in every way he can. They drift off like that, exhausted from their activities and quickly crashing into sleep.

“‘m yours,” Adam murmurs, half asleep and so quiet that Ronan might’ve missed it. He doesn’t, though, and for that he wiggles in even closer.

Ronan presses a little kiss, just a chaste ghost of his lips, on the freckles of Adam’s shoulders.

Yeah, he is. And he’s his, too.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://tamquamm.tumblr.com/) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/typicaIrockstar)
> 
> tumblr post for this fic is [here](https://tamquamm.tumblr.com/post/619397654439411712/)!


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